


With Him

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-09
Updated: 2005-10-09
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: It's the eve of the final battle. . . Can Ron and Hermione find each other before it's too late?





	With Him

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

So dear I love him that with him, all deaths I could endure. Without him, live no life.

\--William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

Hermione sat at her desk reading. She’d been at it for so long her mind was almost numb. She rubbed her eyes and took a sip of tea that had grown cold more than once, but she'd salvaged it with a mild heating charm. She should have been asleep hours ago. It wouldn’t do to face tomorrow dead tired, but she just couldn’t rest. What if she missed something? What if she wasn’t prepared enough? What if she failed somehow. . . What if they all did?

Although, Hermione mused, she really didn’t need to worry about the failing part all that much. She, Ron and Harry had already decided that they would succeed or die trying.

She had to focus. She forced her eyes back to the page: just a few more spells to memorize, a few more defensive charms to learn. After a couple more minutes she groaned when she realized that for once in her short life, she just wasn’t able to comprehend anything.

In her frustration Hermione sat back and gathered her long curly hair, twisting it and wrapping it up. She reached to her desk, scattering parchment until she found an old Muggle pencil lying there. She jammed it into her hair, creating a loose bun that already had frizzy curls springing free and tickling her naked neck.

She had her own room, being Head Girl, so Hermione hadn’t bothered with a dressing gown. She was wearing just the blue silk nightdress her mum, who believed that all women needed lovely things to sleep in, had bought her the previous summer. Hermione never really saw the point; no one was going to see it anyway.

Temporarily giving up on work, her eyes drifted to a picture on the desk, one of her, Harry and Ron, taken when Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup at the end of last year. She was in the middle of the two boys, who were both bright-eyed and jovial, looking fetching in their scarlet and gold Quidditch robes. As she watched, Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek, follow closely by Ron, and her photographic self blushed, turning to look at the tall red head.

She’d wasted the past three years of her life on Ron. Mooning over him like some lovesick fool. And what had it got her. . . Nothing. She was going to die alone and unloved. She’d been asked on dates to Hogsmeade more than once, but she just couldn’t bring herself to go along with the farce. She was in love with Ron and no one else would do.

Instead, Hermione had just sat back and watched Ron go from one romantic interest to another. She’d thought she’d die the night she overheard Parvati and Lavender giggling in their corner of the room, going over in intimate detail Parvati’s first time. Hermione didn’t speak to a very baffled Ron for a week after that. He was supposed to have waited for her.

None of it mattered now. The last of the resistance had been pushed back to Hogwarts. Where once the halls had been graced with eager students, it was now filled with battle-weary witches and wizards. The dormitories were housing men and woman that had long since left school, everyone desperate for one last night of sleep before the final conflict that they all knew was coming.

Most of the students had gone home with the exception of a few seventh years, and the rare sixth year, like Ginny, who had fought furiously to stay, butting heads with all five of her surviving brothers.

They’d all spent the past week preparing, everyone determined to get as organized and prepared as possible, because they had to win. There was no other option. And most of the pressure had been on her, Harry and Ron, since it all came down to them.

Hermione had found a protection charm a while ago, one that would allow Harry to reach Voldemort unharmed. He’d have both Hermione and Ron’s energy as a shield, protecting him against what was sure to be the bloodiest battle yet. It was the perfect plan, allowing Harry to have the power of three when he finally faced Voldemort. The drawback was that it bound the three of them together. So, if Harry should perish, they all would. Hermione still held out hope that Harry wouldn’t have to sacrifice himself in order to kill Voldemort, but it was a small chance really. He’d do what he’d have to do to end the war, even if it cost all three of their lives.

A knock sounded on her door and it pulled her out of her reprieve. It had to be Ginny. She’d been by her room three times, double-checking that she had all her charms straight for her night with Harry, which was painfully ironic since Hermione had never had the need for such charms herself.

“It’s a simple contraceptive charm, Ginny. I’m sure you’ll get it right,” Hermione said from her seat at the desk, feeling too drained to even get up.

“Do I want to know why my sister needs a contraceptive charm?”

Hermione jumped up a in a panic. The only time Ron had ever been up to her room was to tell her something catastrophic had occurred.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” she gasped as she opened the door.

Ron was leaning against the wall, peeling at the paint on her doorframe, looking very intently at it.

“Nothing's wrong. . . I just--” Ron stopped when he glanced up, his eyes widening as he looked at her.

Hermione followed his gaze and looked down at herself, noticing that she still had on just her nightdress. She left the door open as she went to snatch her dressing gown off her chair.

She tied it closed and turned to Ron, lashing out at him. “If nothing is wrong then what are you doing here? You scared me to death!”

Ron was looking at her unspeaking, only now he was a familiar shade of red.

“Well?” she snapped when he still hadn’t answered her.

“Well what?” he said, finally snapping out his daze.

“Why are you here, Ron? Surely you must have a reason. I thought you’d be off with Sabrina.”

“Serena,” he corrected her.

“Whatever.”

He shrugged. “You’ve been up here all night. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Hermione sighed and turned to walk back inside the room, leaving the door open, clearly indicating that Ron should follow her in.

Ron watched Hermione’s retreating back, and had to remind himself he was here for a reason, that this was important. He couldn’t afford to get distracted.

It hadn’t helped that Hermione had answered the door wearing nothing but a small scrap of silk and lace. He was still trying to find his voice. Gods, but she was beautiful with her hair pulled back, leaving only a few curls to frame her face that had flushed becomingly in embarrassment. It made him wonder what she’d look like after making love, lying rosy and peaceful in his arms.

He had to stop that train of thought right there. It was far too late for that. Hermione had always deserved someone better than him, and he purposely stayed away. She was made for someone like Krum, famous, talented. . . Maybe even Harry. But, she wasn’t with Krum, contenting herself to exchange a few friendly letters a year with him, and she wasn’t with Harry either. He’d gone and fallen for Ginny of all people.

She was alone. . .

A small part of him was really put out that he’d suffered all this time, that he’d purposely avoided the one girl he really cared about so she could be happy, and in the end, she was left just as lonely and miserable as he was. That wasn’t supposed to have happened.

“Ron?”

His head snapped up at Hermione’s questioning voice. “Huh?

He watched concern flood her face as she turned back to him, walking up to where he still stood in the doorway. Hermione reached up and brushed a hand against his cheek, then reached up to smooth a lock of hair off his forehead. He closed his eyes for just a second, taking a shuddering breath.

“What’s wrong?”

Ron couldn’t help but give a short, disbelieving laugh, looking down at her incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“I mean besides the obvious.”

“Isn’t that enough? I don’t even care that you just told me Ginny’s off to shag Harry. In fact, I’m glad for it. After all, they’ll probably both be dead tomorrow. . . Why she’s even bothering with the contraceptive charm? We both know she isn’t going to work in the hospital wing like she promised.”

Hermione recoiled, the circles under her eyes looking a shade darker as she paled. “You can’t think like that. We aren’t going to fail.”

“I wasn’t talking about failing. I was talking about dying. I already know we won’t fail.”

“You always have to be so negative,” Hermione said, closing her door when he finally stepped into her room.

“Well, forgive me if life’s made me a little bitter. I’ve been watching the people I love die for a while now,” he said weakly, kicking at the edge of her bed. “I wonder if Mum and Dad are watching us somewhere? And Percy too. . .”

He choked on the last part. . . Percy’s death was still a fresh wound.

“Oh Ron, I’m sure they are,” Hermione said, embracing him as she had so many times before.

He allowed himself the luxury of leaning into her and resting his cheek on her head. She smelled like spring and all things fresh and beautiful. Unwillingly, he remembered a time similar to this when he’d fallen into her embrace and cried like a child, his knuckles still bleeding from where he’d hit the wall repeatedly, trying to kill the emotional pain of his parents’ deaths. But Hermione had stopped him, soothing his pain with her own tears, being stubborn enough to fight him until he let his guard down enough to seek the comfort he’d so desperately needed.

“I came here for a reason,” he whispered.

Hermione pulled away, looking up at him expectantly and he swallowed hard. This was probably his last chance. He had to say something.

“I broke up with Serena,” he blurted out after a second, “Last week. . . And she went home. I thought you knew that.”

Hermione looked at him in confusion. “You came up here to tell me that?”

He shook his head. “No, not that. I just thought you should know. I. . . I forgot to mention it, I guess. What with everything else.”

“Oh, okay,” she said, biting her lip.

“Do you want to know why I broke up with her?”

“I don’t know. . . Maybe the same reason you and Parvati broke up, or that other girl from Hufflepuff, Tara something or other. What are you getting at, Ron?” Hermione said sharply, turning away from him.

“I just. . .” he shoved his hand through his hair in frustration. “Argh, I’m doing this wrong.”

“What wrong? Just say it,” Hermione said, her back still facing him as she went to her desk, fiddling with pieces of parchment. “I’ve still got work I want to do. So. . .”

“That’s just it! Why are you doing work?” Ron barked all of a sudden, walking up and jerking the parchment out her hand. “What if this is your last night? You want to spend it researching meaningless spells you already know? Is that what you want your last memory to be?”

“I’m not going to die,” she said defiantly, her eyes lighting up the same way they always did when he rowed with her.

“I hope not! Merlin, you have no idea how much I hope not. But you might and it kills me that you’re up here by yourself. You should’ve been down there with us tonight. You should be doing something besides hiding,” he said, grabbing her arm when she went to turn away from him again.

“I’m not hiding,” she snapped, trying and failing to pull her arm out of his grasp. “Just because I don’t feel like getting tipsy on too much wine, and joking around when there is still things that need to be done.”

“There’s nothing to be done. We’ve done it all. I don’t understand you, Hermione. Why? Why are you alone?” he choked finally.

“Is that what you think I should be doing tonight, Ron? I should be off shagging someone. . . Some last ditch effort at trying to find a life?” she asked in a hurt tone, looking up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I just. . . I just want you to be happy. For one last night I want you to be happy. What do I have to do? I’ll do anything,” he said with a shaking voice, and he had to look toward the ceiling for a second when he felt his eyes sting.

“Why do you care?” she asked, sounding defeated.

“I care because I love you,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. “There I’ve said it. . . I love you, Hermione. I love you so bloody much that I was able to sit back and let you find someone who deserved you. Someone better than a poor, worthless orphan who drinks sometimes, and has a horrible temper and was never brilliant, or famous, or anything worthwhile. . . But, you never found someone else, and I don’t understand why?”

Hermione stared at him in shock for a second, before she started backing up, looking at him in horror. Her legs hit the back of the bed and she sat numbly.

“Please tell me that isn’t true,” she whispered.

Ron looked at her in confusion. . . That wasn’t exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

“It. . . it’s true. It’s very true,” he said hesitantly, sort of feeling like he’d rather die right now as opposed to tomorrow.

“Oh no,” she said a second before a sob escaped past her lips and she buried her face in her hands.

Ron went to Hermione even though his heart felt as if it had shattered inside his chest. He hadn’t wanted her crying. That was the exact opposite from what he’d hoped for. He should never have told her. He just wanted her to know that someone loved her, even if it was just him.

“I’m sorry. . . You don’t have to love me back or anything. I just wanted you to know,” Ron said rapidly, falling on his knees in front of her.

Hermione’s head dropped to his shoulder.

“No, no. . . You don’t understand. I do love you back. Don’t you see? I’ve loved you all this time. There is no one better, you stupid prat,” she rasped, hitting his back half-heartedly. “Now it’s too late.”

Ron just sat there in shock while Hermione cried brokenly into the curve of his neck. His heart lurched at the sound of her sobbing. Why the bloody hell hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? He realized too late that they both would have been better off not knowing.

“Shh. . . It’s okay,” he breathed against her temple, smoothing the stray curls away from her face. “Please don’t. . . Oh Gods, please don’t cry, Hermione.”

But, he wasn’t very convincing because he was crying too. He reached up and cupped her face, his lips brushing against her cheeks, her eyelids, kissing away the tears that he had caused, desperate to ease her pain.

Hermione’s fingers gripped his hair, guiding his mouth towards hers and it was the most natural thing in the world to respond to her actions. Their lips met in quick, broken kisses that neither one really acknowledged as both of them used the contact as an emotional outlet.

Hermione was lost in a haze of pain Her brain felt as if it was shutting down from the intensity of it, but somewhere in the fog she started noticing the scent of spice and earth that she always associated with Ron. Her tongue darted out against her lips, savoring the slight taste of whiskey that he had left there.

She wanted to taste more of him. . .

That thought sent a beacon of desire through her, a streak of light in the darkness. She whimpered against Ron’s mouth, arching just slightly closer to him. Her fingers gripped his hair a little tighter in a vain attempt to hold his lips to hers for longer than just a portion of a second.

Her silent plea didn’t have the desired affect. Ron stopped altogether, his mouth paused inches from hers. His eyes opened wide, and she saw them darken, the once vibrant blue turning almost cobalt in want.

Her name tumbled off his lips, moaned like the prayer of a dying man, and sadly she thought, that’s just what it was. But she didn’t think on it long, because suddenly Ron crushed her to him and kissed her in earnest.

His tongue slid past her parted lips as he reached up to fumble in her hair, finding the pencil and yanking it out, causing her hair to tumble around her. Ron wasted no time in sinking his fingers into her curls, reaching around to the nape of her neck, holding her firmly to him as he ravaged her mouth.

The gentle fire that had started to ease the haze of pain raged into an inferno as Hermione came alive in his arms. She pulled him from his kneeling position in front of her, lying back against the bed and dragging Ron with her, until his upper body was pressed against hers. He hesitated as she arched into him and Hermione moaned in loss when he pulled up to look at her, his breath ragged.

“I didn’t come up here for this. That’s not why I said. . .”

Her fingers laced into his fiery hair. “I know,” she breathed against his lips as she brought them back to hers. “Please, just don’t stop. . . please. . .”

Ron resisted, pulling back to look at her again. He let his gaze travel between their bodies, looking at her nightdress that was visible from the opening in her dressing gown. He trailed a finger over the line of her collarbone that was exposed.

“Ron?”

He glanced back up in a daze. “Is this what you want, Hermione? Is this what’ll make you happy?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

“I don’t deserve this. . . I’ve never done anything. . .”

Hermione reached up to put her fingers over his lips, stopping his words because they were breaking her heart. He was the bravest, most incredible person she knew and she couldn’t stand that he didn’t know it.

“Do you really love me, Ron Weasley?”

“So much it hurts.”

“Then show me. . . Show me how much you love me. That’s what I want.”

Ron thought about it a second longer and then nodded. Hermione’s breath caught when he leaned back down until he was just a breath away. “Okay.”

His lips claimed hers a second time, only now they were gentle as he kissed her reverently, his hands holding her face, his thumbs brushing away the stain of tears that were still there. Hermione gave herself over to the rush of love and passion that flowed through her, forcing her mind to forget everything but the soft feel of his kisses, the sound of the barely audible groan Ron made as his tongue was granted access to her mouth, meeting hers in a gentle strokes.

It worked. She was lost to him by the time he pulled away to run soft kisses over her jaw line and down her throat. Her senses were surrounded by him, his scent, his taste, the feel of his red stubble brushing against her tender skin. . . All of it inflamed her

Ron paused to suck on the patch of skin over her pulse point and Hermione’s hips jerked against his at the sprialing sensation it caused. He groaned, shifting himself a little away from her, but Hermione would have none of it. Her legs that were tangled with his as they dangled of the end of the bed came up, brushing against his thighs as she tried to bring their bodies closer together. Ron reached down to grip her waist, stilling her struggling.

“Ron, I need something,” she said breathlessly.

Ron’s eyes darkened even further at her comment. His head dropped to her shoulder as he took a steadying breath. “Let’s do this right, okay?”

She frowned at him, not fully understanding. She thought that’s what they were doing.

He must have noticed, because he glanced up and smiled. Hermione’s heart jumped, his whole face lit up when he did that, and it’d had been a while since she’d seen a genuine smile from Ron.

“Come here.” He stood up, pulling her up with him. “We can’t be hanging off the bed like a couple of love crazy fools, can we?”

He left her standing there watching him as he pulled back her bedspread, and struggled with her sheets that she’d firmly and neatly tucked under her mattress when she’d made her bed that morning. Then he sat, reaching down to untie his shoes, and Hermione was struck with how domestic he looked at the moment, like he was just getting ready for bed. For a brief second she almost felt like crying again. She’d love to see that everyday.

Ron pulled his jumper over his head, tossing it to the ground. Instinctively, Hermione reached to pick it up, but he lurched forward and grabbed her hand.

“Leave it,” he said, and pulled her closer to him, fingering the tie on her dressing gown as he looked up her from his seat on the bed, his eyes glowing. “Gods, you’re gorgeous. And I love you so much. . . ”

She’d had a few moments of real hesitation, thinking that she was not nearly as pretty as the other girls Ron had dated, but at his proclamation, Hermione suddenly felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. She moved his hands away from her, and he gasped softly as she untied to the dressing gown herself, letting it fall aside and drop to the floor.

Ron wasn’t shy at his appraisal of her as he let his eyes travel over her body. He reached out, wrapping a hand around her waist and pulled her to him. His fingers ran down the strap at her shoulder, and then he glanced back up at, looking dazed all over again.

“I used to lie in bed and think about what you were doing at night. . . what you slept in. I have to admit that I never imagined this,” Ron said as he looked down at her body again, still tracing the line of silk that held her nightdress up.

“Are you disappointed?”

His head snapped back up. ”No, not at all. If I had known you slept in things like this I might have gone out of my mind.”

Hermione laughed, feeling giddy. The outside world seemed very far away now. Ron looked so handsome in just an old pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt. He’d grown into his lanky frame by now, having worked himself nearly to death at Quidditch practices, especially when he’d been made captain. He drove the other players mad, and Harry often told her that Ron was more of a fanatic that Oliver had been, but it’d paid off in more than one way. His shoulders were broad, and his arms were hard and muscled. Just the thought that he was actually hers now, if even for a short while, made her weak. And she loved that she was having an effect on him, that she could see the raw desire for her in his gaze.

Ron leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, moving the strap aside so it dropped to her upper arm. He trailed his lips up to the curve of her neck as he pulled her even closer to him, his rough hands running up her back, making her head fell back with a soft moan. She’d never known that such a simple caress could feel so good.

“Come to bed, Hermione?” he murmured in a deep voice against her neck. “We’ve only got a short time.”

Hermione was about to say that they had all night, and then she realized that really, one night wasn’t all that long at all. But, it was far better than nothing.

She crawled into bed. He followed after her, gathering her to him, and for a long second they just looked at each other. He reached up and traced a finger over her lips that she was sure were already swollen from his kisses.

Ron opened his mouth as of to say something, but he seemed to change his mind as he leaned in and kissed her. . . And she kissed him back with everything in her, giving as much as she took until they were both breathless.

Ron’s lips once again trailed down her neck. They didn’t stop there this time, but ventured over her collarbone and down to the V of her nightdress, his tongue tracing the outline of the lace that decorated it. Hermione was so caught up in the sensations he caused that she hardly noticed when he pulled down the straps of her nightdress until she felt the cool air against her exposed breasts and registered Ron’s raged breathing.

A hot blush burned her cheeks and neck. It was her first instinct to reach and cover herself, and she would have, but the feeling of Ron leaning down to flick his tongue over her nipple caused her head to whip back against the pillow. Her moan matched his as he took the tip of her breast all the way into his mouth.

On their own accord, her fingers threaded into his hair, holding him against her. Heat rocketed through her whole body, pooling at her center as he caressed the neglected breast, his thumb rubbing over the hardened tip. Instinctually, she opened her legs, and Ron settled between them as he continued to touch and kiss her. Her hips jerked against his, and she could feel him, all of him, hard, pressed against her.

“Oh,” she gasped, and he stopped what he was doing to look up at her.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked hesitantly.

“No, it feels good,” Hermione murmured, closing her eyes to enjoy the feel of him just lying over her, his weight pressing her to the bed.

“I can make it feel better,” he whispered against her neck. “But you’d have to trust me. Do you trust me, Hermione?”

She nodded with her eyes still closed.

“Good,” he said as he pulled at her nightdress.

Hermione moaned in loss when he maneuvered off her, tugging her nightdress all the way off, leaving her in nothing but her knickers. She opened her eyes, and saw that Ron seemed to have got distracted from whatever he’d planned on doing, because he was just staring at her, his eyes running over the flat plain of her stomach, lower to her legs, then back upwards again.

She was about to say something when he leaned down, kissing her stomach, his tongue leaving fire in its wake as it trailed back up to her breasts. She closed her eyes again and reached out to him, trying to pull him back on top her, but he resisted, mumbling something unintelligible against her flesh.

Ron’s hand was gliding over her skin, past her stomach, down her thighs, and Hermione’s body jerked as his fingers brushed over the cotton of her knickers. His lips traced their way up to her ear. His breath was heavy, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as he whispered sweet affections to her. Then his hand slid underneath the lining of her knickers, touching the most secret part of her.

His voice was a gentle reminder and she was so thankful for it, because his touch was a shock. Instinctively her legs closed, but Ron was still talking to her softly, begging her to just relax and trust him.

Despite her nervousness, Hermione listened. She forced herself to relax as Ron requested and was rewarded for the effort when feelings of decadent pleasure washed over her, rising from the place where he touched and shimmering outwards until she was awash in bliss.

“Oh Ron,” she moaned, aching into his hand and tilting her head as his soft laughter tickled her neck.

“Like that, do you?” he asked as he continued to stroke and tease her, making her breath come in sort gasps.

“Oh yes,” she breathed. “It’s lovely.”

Ron laughed harder, and even in her haze, she was able to enjoy the sound of it. He’d said earlier that he wanted her to be happy, but she wanted him to be happy too, more than anything.

And it was lovely. . . His touch was so erotic, making her feel sexy and wanton as all sense of resistance fell away from her. She didn’t stop to feel embarrassed when she had to clutch the sheets in desperation as she searched for completion even when part of her was hoping that it wouldn’t ever end. She wanted to feel like this forever.

“Come for me, Hermione,” Ron breathed huskily into her hair. “Let me watch you.”

His words set her on fire, and she couldn’t stop herself from giving him what he asked her for. Hermione’s head whipped back against the pillow as she gasped out his name. Her back arched and she reached up to grab Ron’s shoulders. Even in her mindlessness she still needed to be connected to Ron, to share her bliss with him in some small way. It was the most amazing feeling; wave after wave of pleasure wracked her entire body inside and out, leaving her shuddering even after her climax started to subside.

She’d been so tense with everything, but now she was totally relaxed. It was all gone, the pain, the worry, the fear. It had all drifted away from her and her body was left humming in contentment.

When she finally felt like she’d come back to earth she opened her eyes to see Ron looking down at her. His face wore such a look of love and adoration that her heart almost stopped beating at the sight of it.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching up to caress his cheek, running her fingers over the red stubble there.

“We could stop right now and I’d be happy. I loved that. You’re so beautiful,” Ron said, eyes roving over her face.

“But you don’t want to stop. . . Do you?” she asked, a lazy smile tugging at her lips.

Ron shook his head and smiled back. “No, I don’t.”

Hermione ran her hands down his back, watching as Ron’s eyes closed, feeling his muscles shifted under her fingers. She was almost completely bare to him, but he was still fully clothed. That was hardly fair, and she sought to remedy the situation.

For the first time in a long while she felt like just a regular girl, a normal teenager who was struggling to pull her boyfriend's clothes off him while they both laughed. They left a stream of clothes on the floor, and for once Hermione didn’t care about the mess.

They were both still laughing when Ron swept her beneath him. He kissed her soundly, effectively silencing her teasing about his Chudley Cannon boxers that he was still wearing, but they got sidetracked as one kiss led to another. Soon then they were breathing into each other’s mouths as their tongues brushed and their fingers explored, running over heated skin, leaving tingles and goose flesh in their wake.

Hermione cupped at Ron’s arousal that strained against his hideous orange boxers and she shivered when he jerked and growled against her lips. Feeling encouraged, she slipped her hand past the material. She ran her fingers over the ridges and contours of his erection as she looked up at him to see what affect her exploration was having on him. She wanted him to feel the same pleasure she had him when he’d touched her and a burst of feminine pride went through her when she watched his eyes roll back. His head fell heavily to her shoulder and she could feel his heavy breathing against her neck, making her shiver again. His hips thrust forward and she loved the feel of him as he pushed himself against her open palm. His body was so very different from hers. She was shocked to find that his skin there was soft as silk; sliding easily against her hand as she stroked him, yet underneath he was hard as steel and the contrast of the two was intriguing. Just when she was starting to enjoy herself he grabbed her hand, stopping her from discovering what his low moans could lead to.

“Are you sure you want this?” Ron asked thickly.

Hermione nodded, and tired not cry at the tenderness in his voice. Even though it was obvious he was far gone in desire, he was still willing to stop if she wanted to.

Ron reached to slide her knickers off, and Hermione tried not blush again as his hands moved down her legs, leaving her completely bare to his hungry gaze. Then he slid his pants off and she couldn’t help but blush as she looked at him. Her eyes grew wide when she finally saw him completely naked. Though she’d just been touching him, she hadn’t stopped to analyze just how large that part of him really was. Jutting up out of nest of red curls, he wasn’t just long, but thick as well.

“Okay?” Ron asked, watching her, looking a little nervous himself.

She gave a hesitant nod as she continued to look at his arousal, wondering if this would really work.

She glanced back up to gaze into the blue eyes she loved so much. “I trust you,” she said, and meant it despite the lingering doubt she had.

“You know that it hurts the first time?”

“I know,” she said, biting her lip.

“Relax.” Ron leaned down to place a kiss at the base of her neck. “I’m not a complete bumbling fool. We’ll make it good, okay?”

She would have agreed but his fingers had found her again, only now they were sliding into her warmth. Her fears faded almost instantly and she ground her hips against his hand as his fingers created a different ache than they had before. He stroked in and out, stretching her, and she found herself wanting something more.

“Oh Gods, you’re so wet for me,” Ron groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder as a shudder went through him. “I’m sorry. . .I just can’t wait.”

He shifted, and Hermione gasped softly when she felt him pressed against her opening. Ron was whispering slightly disjointed phrases in her ear, but it was calming to her. She moved her legs even farther apart as he slid into her, stretching and filling her to the point of near pain. Ron stopped after a bit, and brought his head up to look at her. He was silent for a long moment, and then he leaned back down to rest his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, and then kissed her deeply before she could reply.

She gave a muffled moan of pain as his hips suddenly pushed forward and she felt him tear through her natural barrier. Hermione’s nails sunk sharply into his upper arms, and she tried to pull away from him, but there was nowhere to go. Ron didn’t stop kissing her, and his hand slid between their bodies, finding that spot that he’d paid such close attention to earlier.

“Relax,” he murmured. “It’ll pass. I promise.”

Hermione didn’t see how it could. . . She felt spilt in two. But, he was still touching her, creating the odd sensation of pleasure-pain, and Hermione was surprised to hear herself moaning from it, responding to his touch, moving her hips slightly against his, after while the pain start to recede, giving way to more pleasure.

She was still moving against him, just slightly, and she started to like it, the feel of him so deep inside her, so connected. Hermione opened her eyes, since she’d squeezed them shut in pain, and saw Ron above her with his jaw clenched. His breath was still ragged, but his eyes were as sincere as always.

“Better?” he asked.

“Mmmm, much,” she nodded, closing her eyes again as his fingers started to build that coiling pressure they had before.

When Hermione moaned breathlessly, Ron moved his hand away from her center to grip her hip, and before she could register the loss, he pulled out and filled her again. She gave a sharp gasp, and he did it again, making her head fall back against the pillow. Her body arched completely into him, her arms reaching around to his back to bring his body flush against hers as her legs wrapped around his waist and she loved it. It was as if there was no more Ron and no more Hermione. . . Just one being, and she felt like nothing in the world could touch them, that they were firmly protected in their love.

He thrust into her harder and then she wasn’t thinking at all because all she could feel was him moving against her, in her, their bodies pressed together, the slide of skin against skin. The sound of each other's names tumbled off their lips in reverences mingled with gasps of delight as with each movement Ron took them both a little higher, until they were both shaking, grasping for that part of themselves that had seemed empty until that moment.

And when they finally tumbled off the edge in a flash of blinding heat that was so overpowering neither one of them could do anything but surrender to it, Hermione realized that their bodies hadn’t just merged but their souls as well. It was unstoppable, a magic stronger than anything the forces of light or dark could come up with.

It took them both a long time to find their breaths. Ron rolled off her after a moment, and then gathered her to him. Her head rested on his chest as she listened to the thrum of his heartbeat, and her legs were draped partially across his, tangled in the white sheets. She traced a finger over the freckles on his shoulders and the few scattered over his chest, enjoying the soft groans he made every once in a while. She could have stayed like that forever, just laying with him in quiet contentment.

So, she was quite shocked when all of sudden Ron jerked, trying to move her off him and get up at the same time.

“What are you doing?” she asked in surprise.

Ron looked at her in horror, leaning back against the bed when she gripped his arms to hold him in place.

“What?” she said again, only now she felt the trickling of fear.

Ron shook his head. “How could I be so stupid? And we were just talking about it because of Ginny and Harry. I was just caught up in everything. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Ron what are you rambling about?”

“Hermione, we forgot the charm. And, I don’t know if it works afterwards. I don’t think it does. . . Especially with someone like me. Rotten luck we have, look at Charlie and his wife.”

Hermione had been frowning at him, but at the mention of Charlie, who had to get married earlier that year because of an unexpected pregnancy, Hermione understood. They had forgot the contraception charm.

Ron went to get up again, obviously to search for his wand, but Hermione stopped him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.

“Don’t Ron. . . it’s okay,” Hermione whispered.

“Okay? You could be pregnant,” he said in incredulously.

She bit her lip, just looking at him, and she could tell that he suddenly understood.

“Right, it doesn’t matter all that much. Does it?” he said as he flopped onto his back.

“Think about it this way. It’ll be great if we have that to worry about in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, I guess. . . At least I don’t have to fret about you having to do it alone, huh?”

“That’s right,” Hermione said and then turned to him, smiling. “You know, oddly enough, it feels okay. Either way we’ll be together. I don’t reckon death would be so bad as long as you’re there with me.”

Ron looked at her for a while, and then reached out and cupped her face with his hands. He leaned in to kiss her, stealing her breath before he stopped to place a few more soft kisses against her lips.

“No, Hermione I don’t reckon it would,” he said with a smile of his own as he relaxed against the pillow again.

Hermione settled back onto his chest, once again listening the strong, steady sound of Ron’s heartbeat and sighed. She had been filled with fear and apprehension for months, but now all she felt was love. She realized that her words were true. . .As long as Ron was with her she could face anything.


End file.
